The Girls of St. Wode's

by L. T. Meade

  CHAPTER XXIV

  THE TWINS.

  Leslie arrived at the Chetwynds' house to see the street outside coveredwith straw. The knocker to the door was muffled. She rang the bell. Thefootman replied to her summons, said that Miss Eileen was very illindeed, and that he did not believe the young lady could be admitted,but if she particularly wished it, he would go and inquire.

  He was just stepping on tiptoe across the hall when a face was pushedoutside a sitting-room door, and the next moment Lettie rushed up toLeslie.

  "Oh, do come in, Leslie," she cried. "I am so lonely and miserable, andit would be an immense comfort to see anyone. Yes, Eileen is very ill,very ill indeed. The doctor says that the typhoid is running a mostsevere course, and there are complications, a chance of pneumonia, ifyou know what that means. Come in, do. I know Aunt Helen won't mind myasking you in, and as to Marjorie----"

  "Oh! it is poor Marjorie I am so terribly anxious about," said Leslie."How is she bearing up? They are so devoted to each other."

  "Well, really, Leslie, to be plain with you, Marjorie is in a veryextraordinary state. She simply won't be reasonable. None of us can makeher out, and the doctors are terribly annoyed with her. She cannot begot to leave Eileen's room; we cannot drag her away. Poor Aunt Helen isin a perfectly terrible state about her. Her face is completely changed;she won't eat anything, and only drops off to sleep when she is tootired to stay awake for a moment. Leslie, if anything happens to Eileen,Marjorie will die."

  "But surely, Lettie, Eileen cannot be so bad as all that?"

  "She is very bad indeed, I can tell you; I don't think she can be muchworse. There were two doctors here this morning, and there are twonurses, a day and a night nurse, on duty; and now Dr. Ericson wants tocall in a third. Eileen took that horrible fever in the buildings wherethe coachman lives, not a doubt of it."

  "But I didn't know that typhoid fever was really infectious," saidLeslie.

  "In the ordinary sense it is not; but a whole family were down with itin A Block, and Eileen would go to the house, and she was very hot andthirsty, and they gave her some water to drink, and now it seems thatall that water was terribly contaminated. It had some of those queerlittle things they call bacilli in it, and Dr. Ericson said they werethe bacilli of typhoid fever. How puzzling these modern scientific namesare!"

  Lettie sank into an easy chair, and invited Leslie to one by her side.

  "The fever is not infectious to us, you know," she continued, "and thatin a kind of way is a comfort. Eileen began to be poorly and not herselfa week ago. Now she is very ill and quite unconscious, and yet the veryworst stage of the fever is yet to come. You cannot imagine the statepoor Aunt Helen is in."

  "I earnestly wish I could help," said Leslie.

  "Well, you are helping when you come to see me, for I do want cheeringup dreadfully. Belle Acheson was here for a moment or two this morning.What a terrible girl she is!"

  "I like her," replied Leslie. "I think she has a great deal in her. Sheat least is thoroughly out of the common."

  "I grant you that," answered Lettie; "but preserve me from such uncommonpeople. Give me the everyday sort of character. Not," she added, "that Ifeel unkindly towards her, and I really did try to take compassion onher unfortunate wardrobe; but that, perhaps, was because I did not likethe respectability of our dear old hall to be damaged by her thoroughlydisreputable appearance. Dear, dear!" added Lettie, sighing gently, "howfar away all that time seems now. We looked forward so much to the longvacation; and see what has happened--Eileen so terribly ill."

  Just at that moment the room door was opened, and Mrs. Chetwynd entered.She had never seen Leslie before, and rather resented her intrusion onthe scene.

  "My dear Lettie," she said, "I wish you would go up to Marjorie, for Icannot quiet her. She has left the sick-room for a wonder, and gone intoher own, and there she has broken down in the most extraordinary manner.I tremble lest her cries and groans should reach Eileen's ears. Perhapsthis young lady--I did not catch her name--oh, Miss Gilroy--perhaps MissGilroy, under the circumstances, you will excuse us."

  "Yes, Aunt Helen, I will go up," said Lettie; "but I don't think I shallbe of the least use. I seem to have lost all power of soothing orhelping either of the girls. When I was with them at school they ratherdeferred to my opinion on certain matters, but now all things arechanged."

  "Don't stand talking there, dear; do go," said Mrs. Chetwynd.

  "I will go, of course, but I warn you I shan't be the least scrap ofuse. Good-by, Leslie; it was kind of you to call. Miss Gilroy is one ofour special chums at college, Aunt Helen, and a great friend both ofEileen's and Marjorie's."

  "In that case, sit down for a minute or two, Miss Gilroy. Now run,Lettie; please don't wait another moment."

  Lettie left the room, and Mrs. Chetwynd stared at Leslie. Lesliereturned her gaze with one frank and sympathetic.

  "I am so truly sorry for you," she said in her soft voice. Her browneyes gazed full into Mrs. Chetwynd's agitated face. "And I know whatillness means," continued Leslie very softly, "for Llewellyn--I beg yourpardon, I mean my dear brother--he was terribly ill once, almost atdeath's door. Oh, yes, I know what my mother suffered, and what we allfelt; but he got quite well again, as strong as ever. We had a bad time,but it was over soon. It will be just the same with Eileen, I feelconvinced."

  "Oh, my dear child, if I could but believe it. I never felt in such aterrible state in my life, and I know the doctors are most anxious. Imust go back; I cannot add another word. Good-by; thank you for coming.Your name is----"

  "Gilroy," said Leslie.

  "Thank you, Miss Gilroy, for coming. Lettie will let you know how Eileengets on."

  "I will call again to-morrow morning to inquire, if you will allow me,"said Leslie.

  "Certainly, if you wish."

  The widow spoke in an indifferent tone. She opened the door, and Lesliewas just going into the hall when Lettie rushed downstairs.

  "Marjorie wants you, Leslie; you are to go straight up to her thisminute."

  "Marjorie wishes to see Miss Gilroy?" interrupted Mrs. Chetwynd.

  "Yes, Aunt Helen; and a very good thing too. I just happened to mentionthat Leslie had called, and Marjorie said at once she must see her, thatno one in all the world could do her so much good. Go up to her, Leslie;don't waste time talking."

  "May I?" said Leslie, looking anxiously at Mrs. Chetwynd.

  "Oh, certainly, dear, if she wishes it; but I must own----"

  "Come, come, Leslie, there is not a minute to lose," said Lettie.

  They flew upstairs together, and a moment later had entered Marjorie'sroom.

  Marjorie had flung herself face downwards on the bed. She was wearing anuntidy serge skirt, and a loose, ill-fitting washing blouse. Her tangledshort hair was waved like a mop over her head. She did not look up whenshe heard the two girls enter the room; and when Leslie's soft voicesaid, "I am very sorry for you, Marjorie." her only reply was to clutchthe pillow, round which she had clasped her arms, more convulsively thanever, and to say in a choking voice, "I wish Lettie would go away. Iknow she is in the room too. I want to be alone with you, Leslie."

  Lettie raised her brows, made a pantomimic sign to Leslie to show howbadly she was appreciated, and stole on tiptoe out of the room.

  "Has she gone?" asked Marjorie, still keeping her face hidden.

  "Yes."

  "Well, shut the door, won't you?"

  Leslie did so.

  "Turn the key in the lock, please."

  "Oh, Marjorie! is that right to your mother?"

  "I won't see mother, and I won't see Lettie. Lock the door, will you, atonce?"

  Leslie instantly turned the well-oiled key in the lock. When she haddone so, Marjorie sat up, pushed the hair from her forehead, and lookedat Leslie from between her swollen eyelids.

  "I feel so dazed," she said.

  Her face was red and inflamed in parts, and deadly white in other parts,her eyes had sunk into her head, and thei
r color was almost washed awaywith violent weeping.

  "Oh, come close, Leslie," she said, suddenly stretching out her arms;"let me lean against you."

  Leslie went up to her; she clasped her own strong arms round her, laidthe tired, flushed face against her breast, pushed back the hair withone of her hands, and began gently to stroke the hot cheek.

  "There, darling, there," said Leslie. She did not say anything more, noteven "I am sorry for you," but she kept on repeating the "there,darling, there," until Marjorie, like a tired baby, closed her eyes, andactually dropped off to sleep.

  Leslie sat motionless, bearing the weight of the tired girl's head onher shoulder. Marjorie slept for about ten minutes, then with a violentstart she looked up, saw Leslie, and clutched hold of her with a fiercestrain.

  "Oh, I have had such an awful dream," she said. "I thought you werehere, but that you would not stay, and that Eileen was lying on the beddead, and that you would not let me touch her. Oh, I am glad it was adream, and that you are here. You will stay now, won't you? I can justbear to be away from Eileen when you are here, for you are not likeothers; you seem to understand. Will you go and find mother, and ask herto let you stay with me?"

  "Could we not ring the bell and tell the servant, and perhaps yourmother would come here?"

  "But I won't have her in the room; she does worry me so dreadfully."

  "She is in great trouble, too," said Leslie. "You ought to be kind toher, Marjorie."

  "Oh, don't begin to lecture me; I can't stand it. You must let me havemy own way now, whatever happens in the future. You have come here ofyour own will, and go you shan't."

  "I will stay with you if it will really comfort you," said Leslie. "Whatyou want more than anything else is a long, quiet sleep, and you musthave it. Lie down; I will go and find your mother."

  Marjorie flopped down again on the bed, seized the pillow, clasped it inher arms, and buried her head in it.

  Leslie unlocked the door and went out. On the landing a faint smell ofcarbolic and eau-de-Cologne greeted her. She stood for a momenthesitating. As she did so, a nurse came out of the sick-room.

  "I saw you standing there, and thought perhaps you wanted something,"she said.

  "Yes, I want to find Mrs. Chetwynd," replied Leslie, in a low voice.

  "She is in her room, and, I hope, asleep. Perhaps I can do something foryou?"

  "I wished to see her. I have a message from Marjorie."

  "Poor child, I trust she is becoming more reasonable. What does shewant, may I ask?"

  "She wishes me very much indeed to stay with her. She thinks she canbear to be away from Eileen if I am here."

  "Then, for Heaven's sake, do grant her request. It is quite unnecessaryto awaken poor Mrs. Chetwynd to tell her this. In the interest of mypatient, I take upon myself the responsibility of giving you permissionto stay. Do you need any clothes? We can send a messenger presently."

  "I must write to my mother, who will send me what I require," repliedLeslie. "Very well, I will go back to Marjorie now. You are quitecertain that Mrs. Chetwynd won't mind?"

  "Mind! She will bless you."

  "Please, please, nurse, tell me before I go, how Eileen really is?"

  The nurse shook her head.

  "She is very ill indeed," she answered.

  "Do you mean," said Leslie, turning pale, "that there is danger?"

  "Don't ask me," said the nurse. "We are doing what we can for her; butin God's hand alone are the issues of life."

  She stole back to the sick-room, and Leslie returned to Marjorie.

  Marjorie was now sitting up on the bed. Her chin rested on her hands;her eyes, with a startled, strained look in them, turned slowly toLeslie when she entered the room.

  "I heard you talking to nurse," she said. "Did she--did she--tellyou--anything?"

  "Nothing special, dear, except that she was sure I might stay here. Icould not find your mother, and nurse took the responsibility of givingme leave."

  "Oh, of course you may stay. It is not that I mean; but did she tell youanything--anything about Eileen?"

  "I asked her if Eileen were in danger," said Leslie, "and she said, 'Weare doing all we can for her; but in God's hands are the issues oflife.'"

  "Oh, then it is hopeless," said Marjorie. "I--I always thought it was."She got off the bed as she spoke. She was trembling so excessively thatshe nearly fell. Leslie went up and tried to put her arm round herwaist.

  "Don't touch me," said Marjorie. "I can't bear anyone to touch me now.It is all too true. They have been trying to keep the truth from me. DidI not read it in their faces? Even the doctors have deceived me. Leslie,oh Leslie, if you saw her now you would not know her."

  Marjorie came up close to Leslie as she spoke.

  "Her face is so sunken, and, oh, so white, and her eyes so very big. Youknow what lovely eyes Eileen always had--so soft in expression, so fullof the soul which animated all she ever did, or thought, or said; butnow, Leslie, now if you could see them--they have a sort of spirit-look.She was always unearthly, and now she is going away. She is going to thebetter and the spiritual world; and I, oh Leslie, I can't bear it."

  Marjorie turned away, walked to the window, rested her elbow on thesill, and looked out.

  "I cannot, cannot bear it," she repeated at intervals.

  Leslie remained motionless for a few minutes; she was thinking hard.

  "Of course," she said, after a long pause, "there is only one thing tobe done."

  "Only one thing--yes, I know what you mean. I am to quiet myself, tocrush back my misery, my despair. Yes, I'll do it. I'll wash my face andhands, and make my hair tidy and go back to her again. She never lovedanyone in all the world as she loved me. I am her twin, you know, andtwins are so close to each other, fifty times closer than the ordinarybrother and sister. I'll go back to her, and I'll stay so quiet thateven the nurses won't have anything to complain of. You need not remainin this house after all, Leslie, for I cannot be with you. I must returnto my darling."

  "And by so doing be dreadfully selfish and injure her," said Leslie.

  "Selfish, and injure her!" repeated Marjorie.

  "Yes, injure her, and take away the faint chance there may be of herlife."

  "But you cannot mean that, Leslie. What possible harm can I do her? Howperfectly ridiculous you are! I injure my own Eileen? Why do you speakin that way? It is impossible that I could injure her."

  "I know you will injure her if you go back. You don't look natural,Marjorie. You must try to subdue your emotion. You are much too flushed,your eyes are too full of anxiety. The very tone of your voice is allstrain. Now, Eileen ought to have no anxious person in her room. So muchdepends on all that sort of thing being kept out of the sickroom; and,dear,"--Leslie's voice shook,--"I don't know that I ought to say it, andyet I will--there is one thing to be done."

  "Speak. How mysterious you are!"

  "Let us pray for her, Marjorie; let us ask God to save her. It is all inHis hands. Let us ask Him to spare her life."

  Marjorie stared at Leslie, then she clutched hold of her hand, squeezedit, and said eagerly:

  "Do you--do you think He will?"

  "I cannot say; but we might try. He will, if it is right."

  "Then let us go straight off to a church and ask Him. I always feel asif I could pray better in a church."

  "Yes; we will go at once," said Leslie.